Birdie: She’s good. We got home an hour ago, and she’s taking a nap now.
Briar: That’s a relief. If you need anything, we’re just a text away <3
Charlie: Yes! So glad she’s settling in at home.
Wren: We sent flowers. They should arrive later today. Lottie insisted on adding a teddy bear because she says everyone needs a snuggle buddy when they’re sick.
Birdie: Aw thank you so much. She’s the sweetest.
Briar: When your mom’s ready for visitors, let us know. Mama Julie’s been asking when she can stop by.
Charlie: Especially if that means we can snuggle on the couch like old times and watch Gilmore Girls with her.
Birdie: We’d love to have you all over soon.
The girls have been incredibly supportive, and it’s made me see how much I crave that strength and unity in every part of my life—especially as we navigate the later stages of Mama’s Parkinson’s. I don’t want to hide it from them anymore.
I lean my head back and close my eyes. It’s been an exhausting week since getting any rest in a hospital is nearly impossible. Thankfully, Walker’s been my anchor through it all. He showed up before work every day with two fresh bouquetsof wildflowers—one for Mama, and one for me—along with breakfast, Red Vines, and a variety of snacks. On top of all that, he and Heath have been taking care of the animals while I’ve been away.
In the evenings, he read to Mama while Dad and I got dinner in the cafeteria. I eavesdropped on at least a few chapters a night, and holy toledo, Nurse Brown was right—he makes the dullest sentence sound incredibly provocative, and his voice is downright sinful.
She must have spread the word about him moonlighting as a narrator because when Dad and I returned to her room last night, a group of nurses was huddled outside the door, listening to Walker read a steamy make-out scene. I could have sworn I saw one of them fanning herself.
My eyes flutter open at the sound of approaching footsteps, and I find Dad standing in the doorway, watching me with a somber expression.
“How’s she doing?” he whispers, setting a prescription bag from the pharmacy on the dresser.
I stand and cross the room to join him. “She fell asleep pretty quickly. I think the trip back from the hospital left her exhausted.”
Like me, he’s barely left her side these past few days, except to check in with whichever deputy was covering for him. His entire team, including Walker, has handled everything so he could focus on taking care of his wife, which is what he should have been doing all along.
We have yet to address what I overheard at the hospital the morning Mama was admitted. Not only did he tell Walker about her diagnosis and ask for his help with maintaining the house but he also swore Walker to secrecy—even after he learned we were a couple. It doesn’t matter that it started out as a fake relationship. He didn’t know that. And while I understand howpainful it’s been for him to watch Mama’s decline, he eventually has to take accountability for the decisions he’s made along the way.
As if he can read my mind, Dad asks, “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” I reply, managing a tentative smile.
He gives a small nod and heads down the hall. I linger long enough to check on Mama one more time before easing the door shut and following him into the living room. He settles on the end of the sofa beneath the bay window, sunlight spilling across the hardwood floors. I take a seat beside him, clasping my hands in my lap.
He clears his throat, sending me a cautious glance. “I owe you an apology, Birdie. I never should have asked Walker to keep our arrangement a secret. Hell, I shouldn’t have dragged him into this at all. With everything piling up between work, your mother’s care, and keeping the house in order, I turned to someone I could trust to help.”
I shift to face him, pressing my hands into the couch cushion. “You’re right. It was wrong of you to keep it from me. What hurt the most was how intent you were on keeping Mama’s diagnosis a secret, yet you went behind my back and told someone I would have given anything to share it with. That decision left me feeling isolated and alone when it could have been used as a segue for us both to strengthen our circle of support.”
I understand why he initially wanted to keep Mama’s condition under wraps, given all the uncertainties, but having our friends there for us would have made things easier in the long run. Even Mama was eventually open to sharing it, but she respected Dad’s wish for privacy.
He sighs, hanging his head in shame. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I haven’t been the best husband or father, and there’s no excuse. When I met Lizzy, she’d light up every room with that contagioussmile of hers. God, she was so pretty, smart as a whip, and loved to dance. Every Friday night we’d drive to a honky-tonk that was an hour from Bluebell, and she’d move across the floor like she owned the place. It made me feel like the luckiest guy alive to have her in my arms.” He looks back at me, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and I scoot closer, taking his trembling hand in mine.
He’s never opened up to me like this before. Mama is the sentimental one, constantly reminiscing about her favorite memories.
“When you were little, your mother would put on one of her favorite records, and the three of us would dance around the room for hours. Your laughter echoes like music of its own. We were so damn happy, and then our world came to a halt the week after her fortieth birthday when we were told she had young-onset Parkinson’s.” He falters as he releases a shaky breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but we saw five different specialists early on, hoping someone would tell us it was a mistake. Yet every single one confirmed the original diagnosis, and we were left with the reality that she’d eventually lose her ability to dance… to live freely… and eventually be taken from us far too soon.”
My chest tightens with a dull ache. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”
We’ve never talked about what it was like for my parents in those early days or how they were told about Mama’s diagnosis. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to sit in a sterile doctor’s office, only given a few fleeting moments to absorb life-changing news before I assume he went to see another patient.
“I convinced myself that if I pretended nothing was wrong, life would go on as it had before. But as Lizzy’s health began to decline, I was forced to face the harsh reality that she wasn’t going to get better, and I’d have to watch the love of my life, my best friend, fade away.” He stares out the window, a muscleticking in his jaw. “I’m not proud of it, but burying myself in work felt easier than facing it head-on. If I stayed busy, I could avoid the grief and fear that threatened to swallow me whole.”
“I understand it was difficult, but you haven’t been the only one watching someone you love slowly slip away, Dad. She’s my best friend too,” I say softly.
